


Lingering Shadows (of Hyjal)

by flyingllamas



Series: modern!AU shenanigans [6]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: And Rommath is so done, Gen, Kael'thas can't stop finding trouble, M/M, Tiberius the dog - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 11:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15684507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingllamas/pseuds/flyingllamas
Summary: Somethings are best left forgotten.Unfortunately, Kael'thas was never good about leaving trouble well enough alone. On a hike around the base of Nordrassil, he finds someone who has been forgotten for a very, very long time.Rommath pays the price alongside him.





	Lingering Shadows (of Hyjal)

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Windchaser, Rivkael, and the rest of the bunch over at the Disaster Elves Discord for beta'ing this.
> 
> Loosely inspired by Kangoo's cryptid!Illidan idea.

Hiking was _not_ Rommath’s forte by any means. He preferred dancing and working out and maybe some sports, but things like hiking held no real point for him. Why get sweaty and dirty with no promise of a shower afterwards? He considered himself an athlete, though he had retired from being a professional dancer years ago, but this…

 

Rommath eyed the woods before him with trepidation. The ground was fairly muddy and slick from a rain storm the night before and the hike up to the base of Nordrassil looked as though it would be a tough one. The thought of his poor hamstrings and calves after this made him wince.

 

Kael’thas seemed to be feeling the same way. Though he’d been excited to go ‘cryptid’ hunting with Halduron and Lor’themar near the base of Nordrassil, his face had a look on it like he was regretting his decision. Likely, he’d be calling in ‘sick’ after they returned and Rommath would be forced to pick up his extra work if they were going to meet any of their deadlines.

 

At least at the end of all of this, the portals that had taken them there would be waiting, so Rommath would be able to stumble through them and then stumble home to die on his (lonely) bed. Perhaps if he were lucky, Lor’themar might invite him over, since Salandria was in Stormwind...but for now, he had to conquer the hike first.

 

Steeling himself, he hiked after Halduron and Lor’themar, who had already taken off into the woods with Tiberius on their heels. Halduron’s usual mutt was left at home; the dog had stepped on something particularly sharp and was left with Aethas to hold down the pet hotel in their absence. Kael followed after him, a half whine ready on his breath. One look from his friend silenced it, though; this had been Kael’thas’ idea to begin with, after cracking open a dusty box of his childhood books.

 

When they had been children, Kael had been utterly enamored with the tales of his ancestor and their cousins, the kaldorei, particularly the tales surrounding the fall of Suramar. He’d hyped up Halduron about looking for druids, for the tomb of the Betrayer (yet unfound, if such an elf ever existed...which Rommath truly doubted) around Nordrassil, and well...Rommath found himself dragged through a portal on a Saturday that he would have rather been sleeping.

 

Though his hiking boots squelched unpleasantly in the mud and the air was overall too muggy for his liking, Rommath had to admit that the hike so far wasn’t bad. For the most part, the kaldorei had been rather closed off from the world, isolating themselves from a world changing from the arcane and then eventually technology. Trespassers went unharmed, but were firmly escorted off closed off parts of their lands that weren’t quite open to the public. Nordrassil was an exception: a pilgrimage destination for those more... _greenly_ inclined, like those few kaldorei that lived outside these lands and the Tauren down south. The kaldorei had relented and maintained the near-ancient portals (so far unreplicated elsewhere, much to Rommath’s own personal chagrin).

 

For others, like themselves, it was just a popular hiking destination with the added bonus of some mysticism. Even now, Rommath could see the occasional shy wisp dance through the branches ahead of him, and it startled him badly every time it happened. Leave it, he told himself as his curiosity piqued. Disturbing such a sacred being for the sake of his own curiosity and knowledge would no doubt anger the barely-tolerant sentinels that watched over these forests.

 

Kael’thas finally got the courage to bound ahead when Halduron called out about something, no doubt having found the print of some poor bear that they were imagining to be a druid. Rommath was left alone for the time being, trying not to stumble over roots as he pondered the odd mysteries of their cousins. Absence of knowledge frustrated him like nothing else and the magic of the kaldorei, whether in Light or Shadow or of druidism was so poorly understood. His heart and mind cried out for better understanding, and its insistent song made him more and more irritated.

 

Thankfully, his irritation was mostly waylaid by Lor’themar reappearing about half an hour later on the rough trail Rommath was picking his way along, Tiberius at his side. The former ranger seemed more content than Rommath had seen him in quite some time, the last time being perhaps when Rommath had (unwisely) kissed him. He was clearly at home in these forests, his pants and boots covered in nearly as much mud as the dog beside him. Still, their sudden appearance startled Rommath nearly as badly as the wisp that zoomed by soon after.

 

“You could announce yourself,” he snapped at Lor’themar, leaning against a tree to let his heart settle once more. Tiberius immediately shoved a muddy nose under one of his palms and Rommath reluctantly scratched behind the dog’s ears.

 

Lor’themar only chuckled. “I did, several times,” he said. “You were lost in thought.”

 

Rommath huffed, his ears coloring from embarrassment. Perhaps he had been a little unaware… Lor’themar was quick to join him by the tree, a cautious hand smoothing over his back in an attempt to help soothe him. Rommath pondered shaking it off, but decided it wasn’t worth it. “Where did you leave Halduron and Kael?”

 

“The last time I saw them was nearly an hour ago,” Lor’themar said. He was squinting at something up the trail with his one good eye. “Needless to say, they hadn’t found any druids quite yet.”   


Curious, Rommath peered around to see what Lor’themar was looking at. Up the trail from them, a sentinel was watching them, her green braid over her shoulder. She treated them with an icy look before disappearing back into the forest.

 

“Not very welcoming, are they?” Lor’themar said.

 

“I can’t blame them, with Kael and Halduron harassing the local wildlife on some fool adventure,” Rommath responded. He straightened, popping some of the joints that had stiffened in the time he leaned against the tree. When he looked back to Lor’themar, the other man is looking at him strangely. “What?”

 

Shaking his head slightly, Lor’themar smiled at him. “Just you.” Rommath’s breath stopped in his chest when Lor’themar cupped his face with a hand and leaned in to brush his lips against his lightly, before pulling back. “Come on, let’s see if we can get to the break in the trail at the base of the tree. I know Halduron said that he wanted to meet there, to eat, and it’s already past noon.”

 

Lor’themar set off down the trail whistling a happy tune, Tiberius bounding ahead of him happily, leaving Rommath to stare after him incredulously. Whatever was between them had been becoming more and more solid and steady, though they hadn’t really discussed it yet, but it still surprised Rommath everytime Lor’themar took the time to shower him with affection. Shaking his head, he set off after Lor’themar on the trail until he was at his side once more, their hands brushing the entire way to the split in the trail.

 

Rommath’s first indication that something was wrong came when neither Halduron nor Kael waited for them there, despite it being well past noon at that point. Checking his phone (with no service, of course, because he could have nothing nice today) revealed it was actually nearly three. He looked to Lor’themar, who seemed equally as unsettled.

 

“How likely is it that Brightwing is in a pit somewhere?” he asked.

 

“Not as likely as you’d think,” replied Lor’themar. “He’s a better woodsman that I am. This is...concerning.”

 

Even worse still, Rommath thought, was that Kael was not a woodsman at all. Something tweaked on the edge of his senses, and it took him actually concentrating to realize that it was something magical in nature. It was completely different than anything else he’d felt today, so very unlike the magic in the trees and wisps and nipping at the heels of the sentinels.

 

It was _arcane_.

 

Arcane magic had no place in the forests of Hyjal, among the elves who despised its existence so much it led to the expulsion of their ancestors. No doubt, this was what lead Kael’thas astray from meeting them here. Brightwing likely had no excuse and chased off after something utterly asinine, but Kael…

 

Rommath turned to Lor’themar. “We need to split up, now. I will meet you back by sunset but…”

 

“But something’s wrong, and you can feel it,” Lor’themar finished. “I trust your instincts, Rommath. They’ve not led you wrong yet.”

 

He thought back to the Scourge sweeping through Quel’Thalas, to the children he killed...and shooed off the thought. The past was in the past, but right now he needed to find Kael. He didn’t intend to linger like he did, but Lor’themar grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Just be safe.”

 

With a nod, Rommath took off in the woods in the direction of the magic he felt. Damn Kael, and damn his curiosity. It was what had made them friends in the first place, other than the competitiveness between two prodigies, but it had gotten them both in trouble through the years many, many times.

 

The sun started to dip towards the horizon as Rommath made his way around the base of Nordrassil. He hadn’t found any sign of Kael, and neither still did he see either Lor’themar or Halduron. The forest felt entirely too lonely, and too quiet, and some primal unease settled in the depths of Rommath’s soul.

 

The arcane magic ever in front of him like a beacon, it was only a matter of time before he found a tunnel. At first, he didn’t quite see it, passing back and forth in front of the entrance as the magic swayed in front of him like a pendulum, the strongest it had been since he started this misadventure. Then, he saw it, barely a gash in the side of the tree, covered in forest growth and obviously long forgotten. He approached it, and was startled as a pack of wisps exploded from the forest floor and curled up towards the sky.

 

Knowing Kael’thas as well as he did (and he knew him quite well), Kael’thas had probably headed down this tunnel in pursuit of the the strong magic Rommath sensed within. In comparison to every other magical signature he’d run across this day, this one almost _hurt_ to be near. Nothing in this forest felt like this to be around, certainly not the wisps or trees. It inspired something in Rommath’s gut that he soon recognized as fear. Quel’Thalas had nothing like this to his knowledge, unless one counted the residual energies of the Sunwell; neither still, did Dalaran.

 

What, exactly, were their distant cousins hiding beneath this tree?

 

Looking around one last time for either Lor’themar and Halduron (still nowhere in sight, and likely on the complete opposite side of the tree), Rommath steeled himself and entered the tunnel. It was a strange place, barely lit by bioluminescent moss and runes carved into the walls that petered out the further into the tunnels he went. It wasn’t from lack of care from decaying runes or negligence of care, he noticed. Simply, the runes stopped, the moss loathe to grow as he made his way down the tunnel, fading into darkness. So, too, did the wisps that dogged at his heels suddenly disappear. Without the light of their souls and the walls, Rommath was forced at last to resort to his flashlight that he’d stuffed in his pocket that morning.

 

Its light revealed the well-maintained path, nearly carved into the floor by who knew how many thousands of years of marching footsteps, the walls bare. As he walked, his trepidation bloomed further in his chest, bordering on terror. The magic before him in the tunnel grew and grew within magnitude until Rommath resolved that if he didn’t find Kael’thas within the next few minutes that he would simply turn around and leave, if only for the preservation of his own life. Whatever lay at the end of this tunnel would surely spell a horrible end for him.

 

His flashlight fell across Kael’thas’ form suddenly and he flinched. Still, his friend didn’t turn to face him. In fact, it seemed as though Kael’thas hadn’t even noticed him. He was facing some sort of stone wall, hand splayed against carved stone. With no small amount of horror, Rommath realized the source of all the power he’d been feeling up until now lay behind the wall, muted, but still so overwhelmingly there.

 

What, or who, had Kael’thas found?

 

“Kael?” Rommath called softly, carefully.

 

Kael’thas said nothing, did nothing, in response. Concerned, Rommath steeled his nerves and approached his friend. Even by his side, with his light shining up into his face, Kael’thas didn’t acknowledge him. It took a hand on his arm, shaking him lightly, for Kael’thas to rip his gaze from the wall.

 

When Kael’thas spoke, he seemed dazed. “Rommath, what...what’s going on?”

 

“We need to leave, _now_ ,” Rommath hissed, trying to tug Kael’thas away from the wall. To his surprise, Kael resisted.

 

“No!” Kael snapped back frantically, surprisingly both of them. “No...Rommath, I need your help.”

 

“The only help you’re getting from me is help getting out of this tunnel, out of these forsaken woods!” Rommath tugged on his arm again, but Kael’thas yanked his arm from his grip.

 

“Fine,” he said. “Leave me here then. I’m not leaving here without him.”

 

“Him?” Before Rommath could inquire further, Kael’thas snatched his hand and slapped it against the carved stone.

 

Magic roared to life under his touch and Rommath flinched. The source of power he’d been feeling so keenly through the woods, so overwhelming through the tunnel responded to his touch, reaching out to him. As Kael’thas said, there did seem a certain sentience to it, a him as he’d said. In an odd facsimile to his own question, the magic asked, _Who are you_?

 

Rommath tugged himself away, ending whatever connection his touch had established. “Kael’thas, _what have you done?_ ”

 

“What I need to do,” Kael’thas insisted. “Rom, he’s been in there _ten thousand years._ We’re not leaving him.”

 

Ten thousand years.

 

“You’re not meaning…”

 

“I am. And you’re helping me.” Somewhere down the tunnel from them, lights began to glow brightly, as they had not been before. Something was so, so wrong. Kael’thas wasn’t going anywhere, Rommath realized.

 

He had no choice.

 

Rommath placed his hand beside Kael’thas’ own. No amount of training in Dalaran could have prepared him for the sensation of his own magic draining out of his body like this. He almost fell to his knees when the stone before them shimmered away, leaving a pair of something like eyes watching them from the darkness.

 

Something echoed down the tunnel, shrill and loud. An alarm.

 

Kael’thas had no reservations about striding into the dark chamber and helping the other elf, _the_ _literal legend_ , to his feet. Illidan Stormrage was no less intimidating for his atrophied muscles or his fear when Kael’thas led him into the intensifying light of the tunnel. It’s almost too bright, even as deep as they are.

 

“I would suggest,” Kael’thas said, Illidan’s arm around his shoulders, “that we leave. Now.”

 

Rommath hesitated for only a moment before taking Illidan’s other arm around his shoulders, helping him down the tunnel. He wondered what captors kept an eye on Illidan, forgotten as he was by the world. If they don’t hurry, they will find out soon.

 

They stumbled out into the night, lit by eery runes and moss and frantic wisps, to find the two former rangers and Tiberius waiting for them. Embarrassingly, Rommath sagged as soon as they were clear of it, exhausted from the mana pulled from his body. Lor’themar was quick to catch him, concerned, while Halduron stared at Kael’thas and Illidan, mouth agape.

 

“I found your cryptid,” Kael’thas told him smuggly. Rommath wanted to smack him, but the exhaustion seeped in his bones screamed consequences at him if he were to do so.

 

The alarm became louder and even more shrill, if possible. “Quickly,” Rommath gasped out, leaning heavily against Lor’themar. “We need to get to the portals, quickly. Halduron, you’re the biggest out of us. Give him your sweatshirt. We’ll never get him through the portal, otherwise.”

 

Halduron quickly shrugged out of his hoodie, but questioned as he handed it over, “Don’t you guys think we should just leave him here?”

 

Kael hissed behind him and Rommath rolled his eyes. “Too late for that now,” Rommath said. “In for a penny, in for a pound, and I for one don’t want to stick around to deal with whatever archaic system of justice these backwater hicks have. Do you?”

 

His companions made a noise of assent, except for Tiberius, who whined.

 

The journey downhill and away from the World Tree was a chaotic one. Were it not for Lor’themar’s tight hold on his side, Rommath was sure he would have found himself face down in the mud will no will to move after the fifth root he tripped over. His mind was quickly changed when a call echoed through the dark forest, so like an owl but not. Dread leaked into his veins like ice and he heard a snarl from Illidan, still leaning heavily on Kael’thas but looking a little more alert.

 

“Wardens,” he growled into the darkness.

 

Rommath was both sure and not sure what he meant. He’d read about the elite forces of the Kaldorei when he was in Dalaran, the dark, Shadow side of Elune worship to her Priestesses of the Moon’s Light practices. But...they were fairy tales. Other than the holy relics and barely remembered practices in the cathedral of Stormwind and several Shadow weapons contained within the archaic binds of the Violet Hold, such magic was nearly extinct, if it ever actually existed.

 

He mentally slapped himself. So many things were no longer a fairy tale, not on this new moon-darkened night.

 

Emboldened (or perhaps, made more afraid) by the numerous calls now echoing in the woods, their small group picked up their pace. The bouncing light from their few torches was the only thing to light their uneven path, until they reached the perimeter of the portals.

 

It was just their luck that the perimeter around the portals was closed, its gate wrapped in heavy chains. All of the too-bright stadium lights around the area were lit; nothing would be getting past whoever guarded the portals. Someone had anticipated their coming; perhaps the Kaldorei were more technologically adept than Rommath had expected and radioed ahead. A figure stepped out in front of them and despite Rommath’s utter exhaustion, the smallest of flames leapt to his fingertips at the gleam of sharp weapons on their back. At the sight of the imposing figure, Tiberius shrank back and disappeared back behind a tree. Despite the dog’s size, he was ever a coward...but Rommath could hardly blame him.

 

“Halt,” the figure ordered, voice suggesting that, like the rest of the mythical Wardens, she was female. “You will go no further. Drop Stormrage, and we might yet let you live.”

 

Truly, the Warden was a figure from legend, in full armor and glowing eyes behind the helmet obscuring her face. Rommath chanced a glance back at Kael and Illidan. Kael looked utterly pale and exhausted, but Illidan’s lips were pulled back in a vicious snarl, sharp teeth gleaming in the lights surrounding the portal.

 

“Maiev,” Illidan growled, “I would have believed you dead, after all these years.”

 

“I would have wished the same,” said the Warden, “but I’ve learned that you keep crawling back, like cockroach you are. What interesting friends you’ve made this time...degenerate, just like you are.”

 

It was Kael’thas this time who snarled. “Bold words from a woman wearing armor that belongs in a museum.”

 

The Warden didn’t take well to Kael’thas words, and the chakrams were off her back in a flash. Thankfully, Rommath wasn’t the only one who prepared for a fight. Lor’themar and Halduron, too, moved themselves on either side of the Warden, leaving Rommath to stand in front of her. Each had the camping knives they’d brought in their hands, waiting, ready, for the Warden to make the next move.

 

“This is your last warning,” the Warden said. “Drop Stormrage, _now._ ”

 

Rommath shifted his stance slightly, feet finding better purchase in the dirt. “Kael, how are you feeling about a blink spell?” he asked.

 

“Don’t you dare,” the Warden snarled, but Kael’thas only laughed and said, “Let’s do this.”

 

By some unspoken agreement, perhaps leftover from their ranger days, Lor’themar and Halduron lunged at the Warden from either side. She knocked them aside with one of her chakrams for barely a moment, pivoting on her feet to charge Rommath.

 

The flames in his hands bounced of her armor, leaving behind only heated metal, and he was left grappling her. She drove a plated fist up into the underside of his jaw, making his teeth bite down, hard, onto his tongue and knocking him over. It wasn’t but a moment before Lor’themar and Halduron were on her once more. Halduron managed to sweep her legs out from underneath her while Lor’themar distracted her by twisting her wrist and seizing a chakram, only by the sheer force of his strength. Unfortunately, she caught herself on her knees and swiped at Halduron with the remaining chakram, cutting through his shirt and into his stomach.

 

This was a losing battle, Rommath realized. Though Halduron and Lor’themar were still strong beyond belief, this Warden was a much better fighter than any of them and with Halduron injured, it was only a matter of time before all of them were down. Even worse, he could hear the cries in the forest getting closer and closer, no doubt reinforcements coming to aid their sister.

 

A quick glance to the perimeter fence revealed that Kael’thas managed to blink both himself and Illidan past it and they were limping towards the portal together. They would make it, at least, but the blood dripping from Kael’thas’ nose screamed that there would be consequences. As the other two elves disappeared into the portal, Rommath realize there was only thing he, Lor’themar, and Halduron could do: run.

 

Frost was never Rommath’s forte. With the magic in the world already being as diminished at it was, the only thing the students studying at Dalaran could hope for was that a school of magic would come intuitively to them, as Fire had come to both Kael’thas and Rommath. Being prodigal as they were, both had managed to call a few other spells from the two other schools to their fingertips, like a Blink spell. There had only ever been one Frost spell Rommath had mastered.

 

With the very last of the limited magic inside him, and dipping into his own stamina reserves that might leave internal organ damage later, he called that spell to him with the Warden’s back to him, no doubt counting him as down for the fight as he lay on the ground. He made eye contact with Lor’themar and the former ranger seemed to understand what was happening. Lor’themar pulled his injured friend to his side and threw them both away from the Warden as the Frost spell arched out from Rommath’s fingers, encasing the Warden in ice.

 

It would not hold long.

 

“Quickly, over the fence,” ordered Rommath, scrambling to his feet. He could already feel the pain of the mana burn on his organs, taste the copper of blood in his nose and mouth. Would he even survive this, he wondered.

 

Lor’themar boosted up Halduron, who had to let go of his steadily bleeding stomach to completely vault over the barbed wire, and then helped Rommath. A quick whistle called Tiberius from the tree that he was hiding behind, and Lor’themar all but tossed the giant dog over the fence. Their clothing was shredded by the curl of barbed wire at the top and scored their skin in their hurry. Both rangers went ahead of him, with Lor’themar half-dragging Halduron to the portal, Tiberius hot on their heels, but Rommath to pause to cough up blood so violently he was nearly vomiting.

 

When he looked up once more, only Lor’themar remained by the portal...that was starting to flicker. Whatever ley lines were maintaining this portal were being cut off. Smart, he thought, as he hastened toward the portal. Lor’themar met him half way, nearly picking him up to help him along. The portal flickered more and more and for a moment, Rommath truly doubted that they would be able to get through in time. A breath, a step, a moment later and they were through to the otherside, the others waiting for them.

 

He saw Halduron sitting on the ground, torn shirt pressed against the wound in his stomach, and Illidan holding Kael’thas, who was clearly unconscious, despite his own emaciated state. The world was swimming, tilting to the side, and Rommath could only half-heartedly snap at Lor’themar, “You should have left me, you almost were trapped with me,” before he slid into the same darkness as Kael.

 

* * *

 

Waking up completely took far, far too long. Rommath didn’t even remember being taken to the hospital, though that’s where he kept waking up in brief moments. There was first a mask over his face and then a cannula in his nose that he kept trying to take out. To his annoyance, someone wouldn’t let him, and they kept waking him every few hours. Didn’t they understand that he needed to sleep?

 

Rommath remembered many faces in his brief moments of wakefulness. Salandria, head held in her hands and both elbows on the sheets of his bed, watching him with the same quiet sturdiness that sometimes came over her. Aethas, stroking his hair while some unknown pet peeped in his pockets or tugging his sheets into a tidy state. Halduron, ever at his side, with his mutt in his vest and no sign of the injury the Warden gave him. No Kael’thas, but in his stead was a poorly-disguised Illidan, who seemed uncomfortable with this bright, new world he’d emerged into and never stayed very long.

 

Lor’themar was always by his side. Rommath remembered him holding his hand, or with his feet propped up on the lower part of the bed’s railing, or snoring in a chair. Everytime Rommath found himself awake, even for the briefest moments, Lor’themar was there, smiling with him though the lines around his eye suggested worry, speaking in soothing tones with words Rommath couldn’t quite grasp, though he remembered himself replying sometimes in his own incomprehensible words. Lor’themar should have known better than to speak to a delirious patient, floating in and out of sleep, part of Rommath grumbles...but it was sweet that he tried.

 

When Rommath finally woke up, the first thing he noticed was how dark it was in his room. The lack of light outside the window of his small hospital room suggested it was late into the evening. Most of Silvermoon outside his window was still lit up, so it probably wasn’t too late if the nightlight was still going...unless it was a weekend? It occurred to him that he didn’t know what day it was.

 

The second thing he noticed was Lor’themar snoozing in the familiar chair by his bed. There was a magazine open on his chest, some sports magazine that Rommath would have never touched himself, and his mouth was open slightly as he snored. As Rommath began shifting to push himself up into a sitting position, Lor’themar stirred.

 

“You’re awake,” he said, clearly delighted.

 

“Somewhat,” Rommath grumbled back, and discovered his voice was hoarse. He tried to clear his throat, but it wasn’t much help. “I don’t imagine anyone could sleep through your snoring.”

 

Some part of Lor’themar seemed to droop at his words.

 

“What?” Rommath demanded.

 

“You’ve said that before,” Lor’themar admitted, “when you’ve woken up and have been able to talk.”

 

Before he could add anything else, a nurse and tech, human and elf respectively, bustled into the room and began to bombard Rommath with questions and information. Did he know what day it was? Did he remember his name? Could he verify his birthday for him? It’s been nearly five days since he was first admitted into the hospital. Doctors had found internal bruising and bleeding, particular from parts of his organs that were scorched from a severe case of mana burn, but he was expected to make a full recovery. Could he tell them what happened?

 

Rommath looked to Lor’themar hovering behind their backs. What had they come up with while he was dead to the world? Surely, they hadn’t actually admitted to their wild adventure to any sort of authority -- that would be asking for more trouble than anyone of them could handle. For that matter, where was trouble himself? Faint memories suggested that Illidan Stormrage, in all his ancient glory, had stuck around...but those memories could be unreliable.

 

Lor’themar mouthed, “bears”, and Rommath had to glare at him. Really. Bears. That was the best excuse they could come up with? This was what happened when fools (even half-tolerable ones like Lor’themar) were left to wreak havoc in his absence. Still, he told the nurses with all the confidence he could muster, “Bears, of course.” They didn’t look anymore convinced by it than he was, but they didn’t question him further.

 

After all his vitals were taken and Rommath shoved towards a restroom, stumbling ungracefully on his feet when the cannula was yanked out of his nose, he and Lor’themar were left alone in the near silent room.

 

“Seriously, though, bears?” Rommath snapped. Lor’themar only shrugged.

 

“As Halduron pointed out, they could be _druid_ bears.”

 

Rommath huffed out an angry sigh and shook his head. Lor’themar settled down in the chair next to him and reached out for his hand. Rommath let him. Lor’themar squeezed it and asked, “How are you feeling?”

 

He took a moment to take inventory of himself and replied, “Better than expected. But I imagine that’s the amount of painkillers in my system.”

 

“Likely,” Lor’themar agreed with a thin smile. “It was touch and go there for a bit, for both you and Kael. They almost weren’t sure what to do, until a specialist happened to come in from Stormwind.”

 

“Truly? Who?”

 

“Anduin Wrynn, of all people,” said Lor’themar, chuckling. “Apparently Salandria found a friend in him, in her visit to Stormwind. It’s hard to say no to an eight year old when she breaks out in tears, apparently.”

 

“Hmm,” Rommath said, thinking. Truly, it was probably that the prodigal young man had wanted the bragging right of saving not one, but two mana burned patients under his belt. Certainly, it would go along well with his other achievements...but not everyone was like him, scrambling for new, ambitious feats. Perhaps he truly had acted out of some altruistic urge Rommath didn’t entirely understand himself.

 

Before he could ponder on it much more, there was a knock on the doorway to his room. Kael’thas stood, partially leaning on the door, hand on the rolling IV pole that held both his oxygen and whatever was currently going into his veins. “About time you woke up,” he said, his voice was smoother than Rommath’s own.

 

“I did a fair bit more casting than you,” Rommath snapped without any real bite. “Of course it would take me longer to recover. I worry that you’ve forgotten all that we’ve been taught at Dalaran, or perhaps killed the relevant brain cells with the amount of alcohol you drink on regular basis.” He softened at the sight of Kael’s stringy hair and legs shaking from the effort of keeping himself on his feet. “How are you doing?”

 

Kael’thas shrugged and continued inching into the room. “This is the first day they’ve let me walk, with my oh-so-wonderful minder.”

 

Indeed, he had a shadow in the form of Illidan, almost too large for the doorway. The giant elf hovered, a hand extended on the ready to grab the back of Kael’thas’ gown should he fall. Someone had at least given the Kael’thas the dignity of pants; Rommath himself had apparently not earned that privilege yet.

 

Lor’themar rose to give Kael’thas his seat, and his best friend sank into it gratefully. Lor’themar joined Illidan in the corner of the room, and the two men struck up a conversation that was too low for Rommath to hear clearly. Both looked extremely uncomfortable in the other’s presence.

 

“The real question is, how are you?” Kael asked.

 

“Not dead yet,” grumbled Rommath. He let himself recline back against the bed, now adjusted by Lor’themar so he can at least slightly sit up. “You don’t look much better.”

 

Kael’thas huffed out a laugh. “Will your sharp tongue never cease, I wonder? Even at death’s door, you were sassing the nurses as you went in and out of consciousness.”

 

“Really, that blade should have been saved for you,” Rommath snapped. “What were you _thinking_ , freeing Stormrage and endangering us all like that?”

 

“You helped,” Kael’thas said.

 

The look in his eyes was distant and regretful. Rommath wondered if he himself did not know his reasons behind freeing Illidan. Perhaps it was some foul magic the other elf exuded, that had convinced them both to put their hands on that door and free him. Rommath leveled a glare at Illidan, who somehow sensed Rommath’s gaze on him and returned a rather...calculating look of his own, if he was able to consider Rommath with empty eye sockets.

 

A hand grabbing his own distracted Rommath from musing over several creative ways to hasten Illidan’s death. “I’m sorry,” said Kael quietly. “I never...I never intended for the rest of you to get hurt. I couldn’t leave him behind though, Rom.”

 

Huffing out a sigh, Rommath squeezed his best friend’s hand back. Trouble was likely not over yet for them, but there was rarely a moment of calm with Kael’thas, anyway. Rommath had stood by his side through thick and thin, and he would continue to do so now. Still, he had to wonder if Illidan Stormrage was the worst kind of trouble they would find in this life.

 

It seemed likely.

 

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for them both, it didn’t take long for them to start flagging. Kael was struggling to keep his eyes open, no doubt worn out by the walk to Rommath’s room, and Rommath himself felt whatever kept his pain at bay start to wear off. It was almost a relief for one of the nurses to pop back in and start tinkering with his IV bags.

 

Illidan took the reappearance of Rommath’s nurse as a hint to help Kael’thas to his feet and Kael leaned on him a little heavier than before. The kaldorei didn’t seem to mind much, though. The hand that had rested of Kael’thas’ back before to guide him now rested on his waist, pressing him against Illidan’s side. Kael waved a weak goodbye and let Illidan walk him out of the room. All too quickly, the nurse was done with whatever he did to Rommath’s IV bags, leaving Lor’themar and himself alone once more.

 

Hesitantly, Lor’themar settled in the chair by his bed once more. He looked rather haggard, now that Rommath had gotten a proper look at him. He could see the snarls in Lor’themar’s long hair and his wrinkled clothes, both likely a result of Lor’themar staying at his side for far too long.

 

“You can leave, you know,” Rommath said, his throat starting to hurt even more than before. Instantly, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Lor’themar flinched and looked crestfallen, and only Rommath’s hand on his arm stopped him from rising from the chair. “It’s not a rejection, you idiot. I can tell you’ve been here for far too long. Go home. Take care of yourself.”

 

The sad look on Lor’themar was instantly replaced by the dopey grin that drove Rommath absolutely mad. Rommath snapped, “That wasn’t an invitation to get all giddy on me, Theron.”

 

Even his acrid tone wasn’t enough to temper Lor’themar, and the grin remained.

 

“You can hardly blame me,” he said. “I’m happy to see you up and well at last.”

 

“‘Well’ is subjective,” grumbled Rommath.

 

Lor’themar ignored him, but his smile faded to something fonder, softer. “I did a lot of thinking, while you weren’t conscious…”

 

“Surprising, for you.” Still, Rommath was ignored.

 

“...I thought a lot about what I’d do if you never woke up, if you’d been left on the other side of the portal to the mercy of the sentinels and  Wardens. I don’t think I could have handled it, losing you. I know that what’s between us is nebulous, at most, and that you’re not keen on really...doing anything more and honestly, I’m not even sure I want to name what we’re doing either. I’m just happy to be near you, with or without you cutting into me with your words.

 

“But...I was thinking, that when you get out of the hospital, you could stay at my home.” Lor’themar’s voice was quiet, hesitant. “With myself and Salandria.”

 

“For how long?” Rommath asked cautiously. He was already dreading returning to his empty, cold apartment...but something uncertain and nervous welled up in his chest. He had a feeling that Lor’themar wasn’t talking about something short term, like they’d already been doing. He had been hesitant to let this thing with Lor’themar evolve into anything more serious than the occasional kiss and heavy petting on the couch when they were supposed to be watching a movie together, or a night stayed in the guest room when Salandria stubbornly determined that it was too late for Rommath to return to his own apartment.

 

Lor’themar paused, and Rommath could see the tips of his ears turn pink. “For as long as you are willing, if that’s not asking too much.”

 

It was Rommath’s turn to flush pink. “I...will consider it,” he said. Really, it meant _yes, I will, can we go now and get this stupid tube out of my nose?_ , but the words went unsaid. He didn’t have to say them, though, because Lor’themar seemed to know what he meant. What Lor’themar was offering wasn’t really anything to be overly excited about, especially without a name for what was between them. But...but it was more than anyone had ever offered him.

 

The other man reached over to hold Rommath’s hand, tenderly running a thumb over his knuckles. Lor’themar seemed to hesitate for a moment before leaning in to press a kiss against Rommath’s temple. With a grumble about _stupid men who dodge around everything_ (though Rommath himself was certainly guilty of that himself), Rommath reached out to get a fistful of Lor’themar’s shirt and dragged him in to kiss him fully on his lips.


End file.
